Hellraiser New Blood
by Megazord Master
Summary: Hellraiser What happens when an object of fiction becomes reality? What happens when you can't stop it?
1. Flesh Wounds

Hellraiser – New Blood

Disclaimer: Hellraiser Isn't mine. I wish it was, but it isn't. it belongs to Clive Barker and whoever did the Hellraiser movies. Any references to Power Rangers also aren't mine. They belong to Saban/Disney. Any OC's are mine. Read and review. Now…on with the show…

Part One – Beginnings…

I don't know how it started, really. This is what I know of. Who am I? Oh, yeah, whoops. My name is Weihan Liang, and a thirty two year old Palaeontologist/Writer in Sydney. This happened a long time ago, in 2003 – when I was just 18, but it still makes my flesh creep to this day. I'm a horror movie freak, you see, and I had watched the first three movies from the Hellraiser series. God, those movies freaked me good. But, I saw that there was something…freaky with them. More freaky than before, a black shadow coming from the T.V, then disappearing into thin air. I thought I had been seeing things. I wish I had. The strange stuff happened next.

I came back from school to find the neighbour's dog lying dead on the footpath, gutted. I thought maybe a car had done it, but then the owner wouldn't have left it in people's way. A few weeks later, I started seeing spots before my eyes in class. I didn't faint, but kept hearing the clink of chains throughout the day. When I arrived back home, I found a note in the mailbox. On it were the words "You're dead". Then, another day, I heard chilling laughter coming from a room, but when I opened the door, there was only empty space. Now, I was scared.

I didn't tell anyone I knew about what I saw or heard, but I knew it was connected with the black shadow. Then, it arrived in the mail. The one thing I dreaded the most to see, the one thing that proved to me that I was in deep shit.

It was the Box. In the movies – even in the book – the Box was the key to opening the gates of Hell, and closing them. The package had no return address, just a small tag with my name on it. I kept it secret, knowing that if it was seen by anyone, I was dead. Each day, trying to open it, so I could close it. Each day, no luck. The Box was impenetrable. Finally, in a moment of weakness, I brought the Box to school. I still don't know why I did it. The repercussions of that day still ring in my mind; I can remember every detail of what happened…if I want to.

***

7:30 am

Thursday, 14th August 2003

I woke up to Mum's screeching. My eyes flicked to the Box. I thought of opening it now, but I didn't have the time. After I got dressed, I reached out, grabbed the Box and placed it into my bag. In a corner of my brain, I could faintly hear the "Hellraiser" theme playing, but I thought nothing of it. After all, this wasn't the REAL Box, so why should I care, right? 

The trip to school was uneventful; it was on public transport after all. Liz got on at her usual spot, sat near the front – facing me, but oddly, not seeing me. We walked in together, and seeing as I had some time to kill, I sat down at one of the tables in the foyer and pulled out the fake Box. At once, I had a group of spectators, the usual bunch. 

Rebecca, Liz, Emma, Johan, Eli, Shannon, Tom, Alex, Jason and Tommy. The last two were exchange students from America, and had told us that they had seen stranger things. Suddenly, Bec turned around and motioned for me to come with her. Everyone responded with catcalls and wolf whistles, while I stood, and left the Box on the table. Now, that was a dumb move, especially around people like Johan and Eli, but I had…other things on my mind. Now, I remember everything of that conversation, every last word.

I walked to the nearby couches, where Bec was already sitting. I sat awkwardly next to her, as nervous as hell. She seemed anxious to tell me something, and I suppose we just lost our battle to the nerves. Bec first, of course.

"Wei, I don't think it's a good idea for you to bring that box here. It looks expensive." She started.

"Bec, that thing over there," I pointed out "is nothing more than a wooden cube with brass plates on it. It's about as expensive as a sheet of paper."

"New or recycled?"

I groaned. "Bec, I know that it's not dangerous. That can't be the REAL Box."

A cry of delight jerked our heads in the direction of the group. There, my worst fears were confirmed. Holding the Box over his head, Johan stood on the tabletop, unaware that the Box was changing. I saw it, and my blood froze in my veins. The opening at the top snapped open and that dreaded black mist swirled out. That's when four chains sprang out, and hooked into Johan's flesh. He dropped the Box, but it kept on levitating. The group scattered, and watched as his bleeding form was sucked into the Box, which promptly sealed shut again. 

***

I'll tell you this – we were shitting ourselves. We had just seen a person being DRAGGED into the Box, the only remnant of him, a puddle of blood. I still don't know what happened next, it was a blur. People shouting, Bec screaming, Liz looking shocked, police sirens, forensic teams…all of it. And that damned Box, lying on the ground, and I swear on everything that's holy, it was SUCKING up the blood. The police didn't have any solid leads, so they released me, but kept the Box. That was not a smart move by them. I knew I would be hearing about the Box later…I was right. I usually am when it comes to this sort of thing…

***

Saturday 16th August

I knew something was going to happen. That was why I was glued to the TV all day. Watching, waiting, praying that I was wrong – which I wasn't. The bombshell dropped around 5:00 pm, watching the news. Watching a story about a guy who jumped from the roof of a police station because he saw death. Now, I was interested and a little bit scared. Then, it happened.

"_And this just in, the entire __North Sydney__ Police Force have been horrifically killed in what can be described as a massacre from Hell itself."_

NOW, I was freaked way beyond the threats. A massacre from Hell? I turned up the volume, anticipating the rest of the bulletin

_"Apparently, when the SWAT team investigated the building, they found bodies everywhere. A member of the team said that '**Everyone**** inside was dead. There was nothing we could do. All those bodies…all that blood…and that box…that box in the middle of the room, untouched by the blood.'** We now have a close-up shot of the box for you."_

And there it was. The Box on the screen, my Box. Surrounding it were dead bodies, people with skin flayed off, a female with her head handcuffed to her feet, a headless corpse, blood running everywhere. It looked like something out of a blood-splattered horror flick. Then, the next words made my heart almost stop.

_"The box will be taken to a special forensic lab in __Canberra__ for further study. This is Cassie Chan for Channel Ten news"_

I paled and switched off the TV. Canberra. God. If there was anywhere the Box WANTED to go, it was Canberra. But then, it would never make it there…the Box would open and destroy more if it was in Canberra. I had to stop the Box before it left Sydney.

***

Man, that was no easy feat. And for what? The Box hadn't left Sydney at all. It was in MY post-box when I got home. Still clean, still looking like it hadn't claimed one friend and thirty odd cops. I kept it at home, afraid of what might happen if I didn't. Bec and the rest of the gang started speaking to me again, not blaming me for Johan's death. I didn't bring the Box anywhere else. But then, the dreams started happening. Dreams of…well, Hellraiser, Pinhead, the Cenobites and death. On the fifth day, after a fitful night of nightmares, the day I was dreading came.

The Box was missing

***

Monday 25th August

"C'mon, where is it?"

I flung clothes back as I desperately searched for the Box. I didn't know where it went, and that made it a tad nightmarish. All I knew was that if I didn't have the Box, someone else did. I was frantic. All night were dreams of that darn black shadow and a blood-red cloud hanging over Sydney. Throughout the day, I couldn't concentrate on anything. I kept racking my brains, trying to find out where I had left it, where it could be. Nothing turned up. I watched the news that night, waiting for something – anything – to tell me where the Box had turned up. Nothing.

Then, something happened. I blinked my eyes once, and found myself face to face with…Him. The Pinhead. He looked at me and smiled. His voice boomed throughout the room, although he didn't open his mouth.

"Ah. You are the Box's chosen. You are foolish if you think you will stop us. We have been around since the dawn of time. You, however, will see first hand, our magnificent power!"

I saw his eyes drop to the table in front of me. I saw him look at the VCD cases for the Hellraiser movies. He looked at me, smiled and vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

I knew I was in deep shit.

TBC…


	2. The Prophecy

Hellraiser – New Blood

See previous part for Disclaimer. Pls Read and Review!

Chapter 2 – Explanations

Damn. This was not good. The Pinhead had been released from the Box. It had found me, but was not looking for me. I didn't know why, just that I was the Box's "chosen", or something like that. I looked everywhere for information about the Box – the internet, old tomes and essays based on the movies. There were no more reports on the Box, just that it had disappeared from a high-security laboratory. Nothing else on Johan's death either. I knew what I saw.

That night, I dreamt something strange and very weird. 

_"Where am I? what is this place?"_

_"You are the _Chosen___?"_

_Spinning around, I found myself face to face with a disfigured character. He looked like he had once been a very handsome man, but his face looked like it had been ripped apart, then crudely sewed back together. One eye had burst, the vitreous liquid running down his face in rivulets of white and red pus. The other stared at me in a baleful glare. He opened his mouth again to speak, his teeth yellowed and rotten with bloody gaps to show where they had been forcibly torn out. One arm was held close to his belly. The reason for this was because the hand had been wrenched off, the arteries and veins still spurting a strange greenish-black sludge which I assumed was his blood. His voice was rough, like sandpaper, but held a long suffering tone._

_"You are the Box's chosen? I pity you, really I do. Everything that you hold dear will be destroyed."_

_"Wait, who are you anyway? And how do you know so much about the Box?"_

_He fixed me with a sad gaze, a small tear dripping out of his working eye. Suddenly, the surrounding area changed to that of an 18th century French hall. I saw a figure sitting on a chair, hunched over, working furiously on something. My "guide" looked at me and spoke._

_"That is…well…it is Philippe L'Merchande. He is the creator of your Box, and, presumably, all the Boxes in existence. He was a brilliant scientist, but his downfall was attributed to the fact that he dabbled in the Dark Arts. He heard of a prophecy that stated that a doorway from Earth would be created and it would lead to unimaginable pleasure. Here we are, seeing as he completed the doorway."_

_As I watched, the figure let out a cry of triumph and stood up. He turned around, but his face was hidden in shadows. In his cupped hands was the all too familiar shape of the Box. The Lament Configuration. L'Merchande's Configuration. The greatest Practical Joke of all time. I had just seen it being created. I creased my brow as I thought of something._

_"What's that about a Prophecy?"_

_The figure laughed, a low, wheezing sound only made by extremely ragged lungs._

_"The Prophecy…yes.__ It was prophesised many centuries ago. Basically, it says that a doorway will be created from Earth, leading into the Realm of Him. Well…the full thing goes like this – _

_In a time of early light, a doorway will open_

_Unimaginable riches await those lucky enough to touch this doorway_

_Unspeakable demons also await_

_The doorway will be sealed and forgotten._

_In a time of middle light, the doorway will open again_

_The world will forget what happened before_

_Told only through the words of prose_

_The doorway will close and be forgotten_

_In a time of fading light, it will open a third time_

_Opened by the blood of a friend_

_Thought to be imaginary, He will rise up_

_Until the __Chosen__ one seals the doorway for Eternity."_

_He looked towards me and sagely nodded._

_"You are the chosen one. The Configuration opened by the blood of a friend. You saw the Pinhead, thought to be only told in stories – fiction, not real. Now, He has risen up again. You will have to seal the doorway for good. Now, it is time for you to wake up."_

_I felt myself slipping away, but had to ask one more question._

_"What about Bec? Does she survive?"_

I opened my eyes and rubbed them. As I focused, there was a word on the far wall, written in blood. I smiled as I saw it, for I finally had my answer.

"YES"

TBC…..

Sorry it's short. I'm on Holidays and I can't think about work.


	3. Dealing with the Devil

Hellraiser

That afternoon, I kept a lookout over my shoulder, continually writing down the prophecy as I remembered it.

_In a time of early light, a doorway will open_

_Unimaginable riches await those lucky enough to touch this doorway_

_Unspeakable demons also await_

_The doorway will be sealed and forgotten._

_In a time of middle light, the doorway will open again_

_The world will forget what happened before_

_Told only through the words of prose_

_The doorway will close and be forgotten_

_In a time of fading light, it will open a third time_

_Opened by the blood of a friend_

_Thought to be imaginary, He will rise up_

Until the Chosen one seals the doorway for Eternity 

God, I was stuffed. The doorway of early light, that would be the creation. The demons would be the Cenobites and whatever hell-bred things lurked there. God, this was fucking confusing. I mean, what did I have in common with anyone? What made me so damn special? To my knowledge, I didn't have any super-powers, or any mega swords or anything. Damn, not good at all. I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped my head on the desk, groaning softly. What the fuck was the middle light? Prose…what the fuck did that mean?

Fading light…dusk? Jesus Christ, why did I have to be chosen anyway? It seemed like something out of a goddamn horror movie – which it was. I knew that Bec would live, but I didn't know if anyone else would, or what they would become. From that moment on, to survive, I had to leave Sydney. Journey into the bush or desert, where nothing would be harmed. Go to Antarctica – the coldest place on Earth and await my fate there. But as soon as those thoughts entered my mind, they were banished. Even if I did manage to miraculously escape, there would be no reason for the Cenobites to pursue me until they had enslaved pretty much all of the Earth. And if I DID manage to defeat them, then what? I would be the only person alive on Earth, with nowhere else to go.

Not to mention the fact that I'd be stuck on Antarctica.

I had to be realistic. Whatever way I looked at this, it would all boil down to one thing. I had to find a way to seal the Box and hopefully destroy it forever. I looked at the cube of wood and brass on my desk. That Box was more trouble than it was worth. If I destroyed it here and now, the Cenobites would still be loose – and with no way to send them back to Hell…Chaos would be loosed. Christ, this was a daunting task. To try to hunt down and capture god knows how many demons and pull them into the Box. I hadn't solved it, so there wasn't any problem with the demons coming for my soul. The only major problem was that the person who had solved the Box – Johan – had been torn apart by the Hell-Chains. From what I knew of the Cenobites, they promised exquisite pleasure to their victims. What the disclaimer on the back of the box said, however, was that they achieved this by skewering various body parts to strange objects or contorting flesh so it didn't seem human. Images of the Chatterer, Barbie and CD leapt into my head, making my blood run cold. The thought of something like that happening to me or one of my friends was chilling.

The question on my mind was; what could I possibly do to stop it. Guns, yeah, a possibility, but then how could a measly bullet stop a demon incarnate? Fire? Also a possibility – from what I had seen in Hellraiser: Hellbound, fire was effective at shattering illusions, but what about the real deal? A high-powered electromagnet? That was starting to seem like the answer. So far, the only Cenobite I had seen was the Pinhead, but as I knew – wherever he went, his cadre was soon to follow. I swallowed as I thought of facing down the Torso, the Bloodline Twins or even the Chatter Beast.

I knew what I had to do.

TBC…

A/N: Sorry about the wait – been between jobs and not a lot of time to write. Plus, my computer broke down.


	4. Time

A/N – After trawling through my old VCDs, I watched Hellraiser again and the creative juices started flowing once more. Switching to a 3rd person viewpoint for the rest of the story…Short chapter to start off with again

Chapter 4 – Time

4 years later

Weihan ran – and ran _hard_.

For four years he had been doing this. Playing a cat and mouse game with the demonic entities known as the Cenobites. Watched as his friends were torn apart or brutally tortured and raped in front of his eyes. He had won a few battles against them though and slain a few of the demonic beasts. The Lament Configuration had given him Hell – but it had also given him release. It had single handedly led to the destruction of nearly all of what he called the "First Gen". The First Gen were of course the Original Chatterer, the Female and the bloated Butterball. He had watched them as they "died" – feeling inner warmth as they left the world.

The years had not been kind to him. Somehow, the Cenobites had learnt of what he was planning to do – go into Hell itself and destroy the Leviathan. Pinhead had been smart. He had used most of his arcane magik to seal the doorway into Hell – barring Weihan from entering. It also had a reverse effect – just as Weihan could not go in, they could not harness their Lord's power as well. Weihan thought that this was a fair trade-off. After countless hours, he had tracked down the writer of the Prophecy – the twisted and gnarled remains of the Channard Cenobite. The "good" doctor had gleefully informed him that he had written the Prophecy as a joke. That there was no stopping their reign.

After days of torture, however, Channard had cracked…or cracked more. He had said that while the Prophecy itself was a sham, the Chosen One existed. Whether or not it was Weihan, he didn't know. He had been too busy mumbling about Sabres and Power Spheres to be of any further use. Weihan didn't know what would happen next. According to his other research, the Cenobites – once cut off from their diabolical master – would rape the world and reshape it into their own image.

They had already ravaged Australia. They had spread their vile influence across the wide continent, "purifying" all in their wake. Those who didn't escape the first time were condemned to live in fear. The rest were either dead or transformed into mindless Cenobites. Bec had taken her own life – unable to keep up with the death and destruction all around her. Weihan, himself, had barely escaped the "Day of Chains" as it was now called. He had stolen a boat and – despite having no experience on how to sail – had sailed to Malaysia. They had followed him with their razor chains and brutal blows. Chatterer, Butterball and the Female had met their end in Malaysia – dealt the hand of Death by Weihan himself.

He was running now. Running hard across the barren landscape of Malaysia, a backpack on his back containing what he had left…which wasn't much. He sneaked a peek over his shoulder. Nothing there – but not for long. He had to make it to his safe house. He had enspelled the area with protection spells and wards – artifacts that he had uncovered in his travels. He ran faster and harder than anything. He spied his safe-house in the distance – a small, squat one roomed shack. He wrenched open the door and slammed it on three hooked chains.

He sighed. He was safe…

For now…

TBC…hopefully.


End file.
